


Only a Drink

by FeatherWriter



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Also Raven does not belong to me, Awkward Conversations, Gen, Guardian memories, Mentions of Osiris, Note that both Raven and Sylvanni are female Awoken Warlocks, That feel when your mortal friend is dating your mortal enemy, The Reef
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 21:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherWriter/pseuds/FeatherWriter
Summary: Sylvanni Duv isn't a Guardian who often goes out to socialize, but when a friendly acquaintance met in the field invites her for drinks afterward, she decides to accept. Unfortunately, meeting this new friend's lover is more difficult than expected, when it turns out he and Sylvanni have met... and it didn't go well last time.





	Only a Drink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [COSMICraven117](https://archiveofourown.org/users/COSMICraven117/gifts).



> A thank you for some amazing art and a cheer-up present after the Forsaken story reveal for my dear friend, CosmicRaven117. I'm quite thankful for her letting me borrow Raven for a story, and I hope I've done her justice. 
> 
> For those following Sylvanni's personal story, this interlude is extracanonical, but would take place in between Reconnaissance and Recompense. It is also set before the Red War.

Sylvanni’s first indication that something is off is when she notices that they’re heading in the wrong direction. 

“Ghost,” she says, “will you check the nav for me? I think we’re off-course.”

She can see the thrusters of the ship she’s following out the front panel still, which causes her to wonder if their guide has lost her way. Her Ghost confirms her suspicions a moment later. “We are apparently 12.3 degrees off the normal approach trajectory.”

Sylvanni frowns. “Open comms?”

“Online now.”

She clears her throat. “Raven, is your navigation system working correctly? My readings say we’re off-course for the Vestian Outpost.” 

If they weren’t careful they’d wander out of the allowed airspace and raise the ire of the Queen’s Guard. When the Reef had been opened to Guardians, the Awoken court had made it very clear that the Traveler’s Chosen weren’t to traipse wherever they pleased. Guardians were allowed access to one outpost on the fringes and they weren’t to trespass elsewhere. 

The crackly reply comes over the cockpit speakers a few moments later. “Not off course. We’re not heading to the Outpost.”

“When you said we should grab a drink at the Reef…”

“I’ve got a place in mind,” Raven says. “And don’t worry, they’ll let us in. I… know people here, you could say.”

Sylvanni shares a look with her Ghost at that, but decides not to question it. “Alright, lead on.” Though she worries about getting in trouble for it, she can’t say she’s sorry not to be at the Outpost. She’d certainly prefer somewhere that’s not crowded with other Guardians trying to find their way into the Trials or beg some mission off Variks or Petra.

She flips the comms off, hoping they aren’t about to be flagged down by a patrol at any moment. Contacts in the Reef? She’s heard of odder things, though she’s not sure why anyone would particularly  _ want  _ to make friends with Reef Awoken. The few times Sylvanni had interacted with them outside of the ‘Guardian-approved’ zones she’d found them hostile, rude, and more than a little condescending. 

Perhaps this Raven had met a better crowd than she had. She didn’t know much about Raven, other than what they’d picked up of each other in the last few hours. The Vanguard had assigned them together in an open Fireteam for a strike and they’d stuck together for a few more after that, building up a good rapport. 

Raven was a fellow Awoken Warlock, competent in the field and blessed with an easy friendliness that was hard to dislike. When their mission roster cleared, Raven had invited her for a drink at the Reef, and she’d agreed, though her Ghost had nudged her in the arm to make sure she didn’t say no. He always thought she didn’t socialize enough with other Guardians.

When Raven’s ship finally banks into a landing sequence ahead of them, Sylvanni takes stock of where they are. She doesn’t know the inner areas of the Reef very well, but she feels like this is at least near the same sector where she was taken for her royal audiences back when she’d hunted for the Black Garden. Though all of the Reef has a feeling of broken and scattered debris—likely an intentional camouflage—she can see hints of a nicer, more elegant architecture hidden within when they pass windows.

The oddities continue as they land and head into one of the structures. There’s Queen’s Guard at the hangar, but they don’t even bat an eye at the sight of two Guardians striding in. Raven leads the way, and after a short walk, stops at a nondescript door. Within sits an upscale lounge, with soft music playing throughout the room. It’s nicer than Sylvanni would have expected, with sparkling decorations and a mirror with frosted designs behind the bar. It’s a small space, and though there is a bartender, there’s no other patrons.

“So not only are you able to get into the Reef,” Sylvanni remarks as they walk in, “but you’re able to walk into places like this? These must be some friends you have, if I may say so, Raven.”

Raven grins. “That’s one way of putting it. Actually, I was hoping it might be alright if we had company? My, er,  _ companion  _ is here, and I haven’t seen him in several days. We try to meet up when I’m back at the Reef. Only if you don’t mind company, that is.”   
  
Sylvanni certainly catches the inflection on ‘companion,’ putting the pieces together. A Reef-born lover? That certainly explains the access. “By all means. If he doesn’t have a problem with Guardians, I don’t have a problem with him.” Her curiosity is certainly a factor in the decision as well.

The bartender brings them over drinks, though they haven’t ordered anything. Perhaps, Sylvanni thinks, Raven is enough of a regular here that he just knows what to bring. It’s an odd sort of cocktail, swirled blues and violets with an iridescent shimmer. The taste is fruity and bubbly, but with a sharp burn. Sylvanni likes it quite a bit. 

As they settle in, Raven leads the conversation, more at ease in this setting, going over some of the more exciting moments from their last mission. There were a few times where they were forced to go separate ways, and Raven tells of a sniper duel she ended up stuck in with a Taken Vandal who kept throwing up shields as soon as she fired. She seems to be coming to the conclusion of the tale when she gets a beep from her comms.

“Oh, I think he’s outside,” Raven says, her smile growing wide. “I’ll go let him know we’re in here.”

Sylvanni moves to stand as well. “I might try to see if I can get another of… whatever this is from the bar while you get him.”

“Ask for an Aurora Midnight,” Raven offers. 

“That’s a good name for a drink.”

“I know, isn’t it?” Raven laughs, then turns for the door. 

Sylvanni takes her time at the bar, leaning on an elbow as she orders another. Every so often she glances toward the entrance, but Raven and her companion seem to be taking a private moment to themselves, which she can understand. 

“You’re a… Guardian, right?”

She turns back to see the bartender setting her glass down, the dark liquid dancing within. She nods, picking it up to take a sip. He doesn’t sound accusatory, just curious. “I am, yes.”

His eyes shift to her Bond. “That armband, that means you’re a Warlock, like Lady Curator?”

“Pardon, who?”

“Lady Curator.” He nods toward the door. “Who you’re here with?”

“Oh, you mean Raven? She didn’t tell me her surname. I apologize for not recognizing it. But yes, I’m also a Warlock. This is a Bond, it helps focus my Light.”

For a moment, he looks like he’s planning on asking her something else, but the door opens, and he ducks his head instead. “I should let you get back to your friends.”

“Thanks for the drink,” she says, giving him a nod, then turns to head back to the table.

And then immediately freezes as her blood runs cold. 

Raven  _ is  _ back with her partner. At least, that’s who Sylvanni assumes has his arm around Raven’s shoulders. But the thing that makes her vision go red is the fact that it’s none other than the Prince of the Reef. 

“ _ Uldren _ .” The name is half-choked, half-hissed as it leaves her lips. She feels rooted to the ground, feeling the weight of the situation and etiquette warring with her nearly overwhelming need to lunge forward and strangle him. Her mind plays their encounter on Mars over and over in her thoughts, the feeling of his knife in her neck, the terror when he’d disabled her Ghost, the little smirk he gave her as he stole her Sparrow.

His reaction to her is milder, a slight widening of the eyes, but perhaps that’s just because he’s better at hiding it. “Sylvanni Duv? This is… a surprise.”

“Wait,” Raven says, looking between the two in innocent confusion. “You’ve met before?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Uldren says mildly. Though he’s outwardly relaxed. Sylvanni can feel how sharply he’s watching her, waiting for her to make a move, seeing if she’ll attack him or cause a scene.

Deep down, she knows if she doesn’t get out of here, she probably will.

“I need to go,” she says, the words stiff and clipped. She breaks eye contact with Uldren finally and forces her head to down as she marches for the door. She leaves her drink sitting on the bar, forgotten.

“Sylvanni?” Raven calls, obviously worried for her. 

Out of the corner of her eye as Sylvanni reaches the door, she sees Uldren waving Raven back, telling her he’ll take care of it. Sylvanni truly doesn’t know what she might do to him if he tries.

She marches through the corridor outside, wanting nothing more than to reach her ship and get away from this whole mess. It was a mistake to come here. Of all the people in the Reef, it had to be him, didn’t it? She shakes her head, still feeling that burning anger and frustration building, her outrage at what he did to her. She wants to go back there and tear him to shreds, but her self-control stays her hand.

That is, until she hears hurried footsteps behind her.  _ That had better not be who I think it is.  _

“Duv, wait!” It  _ is  _ Uldren, or his voice at least, which brings a grimace to Sylvanni’s face. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t break stride. She can see the door to the hangar bay up ahead and she prays he’ll take the hint and realize that he’s the last person she wants to speak to right now.

Unfortunately for her escape plan, he does not, and instead sprints to catch up with her, grabbing her wrist to pull her to a stop. She’s so tense, already primed for a fight, that instinct takes over at the physical contact. In a second, she whirls on him, drawing her sidearm and forcing the barrel to his forehead. It’s a slick little blue Omolon piece, and the ammo sloshes in the chamber as she whips it into position. He stills instantly.

“The next time you lay hands on me is the last time you have hands, Sov,” she snarls, itching to pull the trigger right then and there, begging him to give her a reason.

At the end of the hallway, the Queen’s Guard have snapped to attention, seeing their prince threatened. They start to run up, spears at the ready, but Uldren stops them. 

“Stand down,” he says, still with that infuriatingly calm tone. He releases her wrist, and holds up his hands where she can see them. “Can we just talk for a moment, Guardian?”

Sylvanni doesn’t lower her weapon. “Why the hell would I want to do that? To give you a chance to murder me again?”

His brow knits, annoyed at her anger. “Is that what you’re upset about? I’d hardly call it ‘murder’ when you’re standing here, perfectly fine.”

“You shoved a blade through my spine,” she hisses. “I’d say it damn well qualifies. You practice that on your girlfriend back there? Figure out how to disable Ghosts using hers first?”

His expression darkens, and Sylvanni feels a little satisfaction at knowing she hit a nerve. “Raven has nothing to do with this.”

Sylvanni lowers the sidearm, but doesn’t put it away. Her urge toward physical violence starts to ebb away as she lays into a verbal evisceration instead. “That’s the real surprise here, isn’t it? You taking a  _ Guardian  _ lover.”

“That’s enough,” he snaps back, “Insult me all you wish, but leave her out of it.”

“Why? I can’t imagine you actually  _ care  _ for her. That would require having a goddamn emotion for once in your life.” She barks a bitter laugh. “Here I thought you despised our kind, but maybe it’s just that I’m not your  _ type. _ ”

“She’s different,” Uldren says firmly, visibly holding back his own temper now.

“Sure she is,” Sylvanni sneers. “Is it the red hair? Wouldn’t have pegged that as your ‘thing,’ but I guess we’re learning all kinds of things about each other now, aren’t we?”

He closes his eyes, taking a moment to calm himself, and when he speaks again his voice is soft. “I knew her. Before she died.”

The unexpected admission is like a physical blow, the sudden shock evaporating Sylvanni’s anger in an instant. The impact of it reminds her of the time she was once kicked in the chest by a Cabal Legionary. She feels like the wind has been knocked out of her completely.

She blinks, stuttering. “Y-you... what?”

“Raven was Reef-born, before she died. We were... together then.” His quiet tone gives an unexpected sense of vulnerability to the words as he continues. “When she died, I was devastated. And when she… returned, I was furious.”

Sylvanni tries to process all of this, but she feels dazed from the emotional whiplash of it all. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll admit,” he says, mouth twisting, “that some of my… displeasure with Guardians was my disgust after seeing what your Traveler had turned her into. I wished to grieve, and instead I was forced to see a mindless husk wearing her face, using her name.”

She feels a small jolt at the talk of Guardians as ‘mindless husks,’ a sentiment she’s had to face herself many times in her long life, and never with a satisfying answer. This isn’t about her, though. Her eyes drift back the way they came, toward the lounge. “But… you and she are…”

“Yes,” he says, with a single nod. “I was wrong. And she found a way to restore her memories.”

“She…” This one feels like being doused in ice water, sharp and jarring. Guardians aren’t supposed to remember their pasts. Sure, everyone wondered, but know one actually  _ knew _ . “She remembers her life before? How is that possible?”

He shakes his head. “These are her stories to tell, not mine. But that brings me back to you and me. Raven must like you, if she brought you back here.”

“We were only assigned together for a few missions,” Sylvanni says, shying away from the acquaintance, still looking for an escape. She doesn’t want to go back in there, not after storming out like that. “I barely know her.”

“Then perhaps she wishes to know you better,” he says. “Regardless, I know she’ll be upset if I drive you away in a fit of rage. I know our history has been… complicated.”

“That’s putting it rather lightly,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

He sighs. “I’m not asking you to forgive me, or even like me. But it’s only a drink. Can we declare a truce long enough for a civil conversation? For Raven’s sake?”

She goes quiet, considering. That frustration is still there deep down, her hatred toward him over how he treated her at a time she was going out of her way to help. Emotionally complicated social situations aren’t exactly her forte either, and she knows if she goes back in, there’s going to be awkwardness and confusion to sort through. Even thinking about it makes her want to turn and sprint for her ship now.

But on the other hand, she’s never seen Uldren Sov like this. This softer version of the prince who, despite her insults earlier, very obviously does care for this Raven, and is willing to extend an olive branch in order to make her happy. And despite feeling like it could be a dangerous knowledge, the curiosity of a Guardian who managed to reclaim her memories feels too important to pass up.

Finally, Sylvanni sighs through gritted teeth and holsters her sidearm. “Fine. A truce, for the sake of a casual drink. But I’m not thrilled about it.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be.” He gestures down the hall. “After you?”

She crosses her arms. “No, you first. The idea of you walking behind me makes the back of my neck itch. Can’t fathom why.”

“Fair enough.” A little smile crosses his lips and he turns to walk back. She waits until he’s a few steps away before she starts to follow.

_ Traveler preserve me,  _ she thinks, hoping she’s not just made a huge mistake.  _ Casual drinks with Uldren Sov and his Warlock lover. What am I getting myself into? _

Her stomach churns in knots as she follows Uldren back. The closer they get, the more she feels she must be making a terrible mistake. By the time they reach the door, she’s all but ready to bolt again, but Uldren turns back to look at her, raising an eyebrow. 

Something inside her steels. If she runs, it looks like she’s scared, and she will  _ not  _ be intimidated, certainly not by Uldren Sov of all people. He holds the door for her and, taking a deep breath, she heads back inside.

Within, Raven stands immediately as she sees them both, worry plain across her face. “Sylvanni, is everything alright? Uldren, what happened?”

Sylvanni holds up a hand, forcing a smile to her face. “It’s fine, everything’s fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left abruptly like that. It was extremely rude. I was just… very surprised to see Ul– er, His Highness, again unexpectedly.”

Uldren crosses back to the table, leaning in to kiss Raven’s forehead and encouraging her to sit down again. “The fault was mine,” he says, much to Sylvanni’s shock. “Lady Duv here was kind enough to assist me when I was in need, and I repaid her kindness very poorly. She had every right to be upset with me.”

It takes all of Sylvanni’s will not to go slack-jawed at the admission.  _ Who is this and what has he done with the asshole I dragged across Mars a year ago?  _ Trying to ignore her own awkwardness, she sits down across from him.

Raven frowns at him. “I don’t think you told me about this…”

“I… did not,” he says slowly. “It wasn’t the most flattering of stories for me. Lady Duv helped me after my crash from the Dreadnaught, and though she’d come up with an admirable plan to help me get back to safety, I… abandoned her a few days in and took her Sparrow with me.”

Sylvanni raises an eyebrow at ‘abandoned.’  _ Leaving out the grisly details, are we?  _ But this was more civil than she’d ever seen him and he did seem to be making concessions towards her. It was far more than she would have expected. Perhaps she could let him keep his cleaner version. They  _ were  _ supposed to be under a truce, weren’t they?

“I’m sure… you were only doing what you had to,” she manages to say, though she’s surprised she doesn’t choke over the words. “And you don’t have to call me ‘Lady Duv.’ Just Sylvanni is fine.”

He nods. “You did save my life. First name terms seem appropriate for me as well.”

The inquisitive bartender from before brings her forgotten drink over from the bar and sets it on the table. She’s grateful to have something to hide her reactions behind as she takes a sip. She feels like she’s waiting for something to go wrong at any moment, but it… doesn’t. It’s almost pleasant. Oddly so.

“You never even mentioned you met another Guardian on Mars,” Raven accuses. 

“I felt it would be too difficult to untangle. I had business to attend to on Mars after I was rescued,” Uldren says, “for which I couldn’t have company. Another reason I never shared the story.”

“More Crow secrets?” Raven asks, apparently used to these sorts of blocks.

He nods. “Unfortunately so. There are secrets in the worlds right now too dangerous to get loose.”

“You sound like Ikora,” Sylvanni remarks off-handedly, and then hurries to amend when she sees his frown. “That was a compliment, by the way.”

Raven giggles. “Uldren in the Vanguard. That’d be a sight.” She reaches up to ruffle his hair. “Though I’ve always felt you’d be more of a Hunter if you ever became a Guardian.”

“If he wants to be Hunter Vanguard, he’d have beat out Cayde for it. Something tells me he wouldn’t give it up without a fight.”

Uldren frowns at the both of them. “I think I’d rather keep the life I have currently, if it’s all the same.”

“Suit yourself,” Sylvanni says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Though if you ever did wind up with a Ghost of your own, I’m sure Raven would enjoy Crimson Doubles with you.”

His eyes slide to Raven. “Crimson… Doubles?”

“It’s nothing, just a Guardian thing.” Raven blushes, and Sylvanni guesses it’s probably something she’s thought about before. “Shaxx organizes two-person teams for Crucible matches during Crimson Days is all.”

“You know,” Sylvanni continues for her, “as a romantic gesture sort of thing.”

Uldren rolls his eyes. “Only Guardians could see a fight to the death as an outing for a cute date.”

He shoots Sylvanni a questioning look and she can almost hear it in his voice from the expression alone.  _ Why get mad at me for Mars when you Guardians kill each other all the time for fun? _

She meets his eyes and takes a sip of her drink, deciding to respond to both his spoken and unspoken words. “Well there’s nothing quite like a fair fight in good faith. Going up against an opponent, your skill against theirs.”  _ A sucker-stab in the back of an ally isn’t at all the same thing. _

He tips his head, conceding the point. Raven seems to have missed the subtext of the conversation, which Sylvanni takes as for the better. She’d rather not have to get into all of that, when they were just starting to get along. 

As Uldren and Sylvanni keep slipping hostile undertones and barbed hidden meanings to one another without ever actually breaking their makeshift truce, Raven starts to catch on. She can sense the rift between the other two, despite their attempts to conceal it, and she deftly steers the conversation toward safer topics, discussing the missions she and Sylvanni had run earlier or encouraging Uldren to tell interesting or funny stories about their history together. It’s so odd for Sylvanni to hear Uldren in such a lighthearted manner, reminiscing like this. It’s almost… refreshing.

He mentions something about their time together before Raven was a Guardian, and it reminds Sylvanni of that other curiosity that she wanted to indulge.

She takes another sip of her drink—only starting to realize how often the bartender’s replaced it with a new one while they’ve been chatting here—and looks toward Raven. “I apologize if this is intrusive, but I can’t quite contain my curiosity. Uldren mentioned it before, but you… remember your life before you became a Guardian?”

Raven nods, not seeming embarrassed or off-put by the question. “I do now, yes.”

“But you didn’t when you were first resurrected?” Sylvanni clarifies. “How does that work? I’ve been a Guardian for… well, a very long time. And I could probably count on both hands the number of Guardians I’ve met who know about their pasts.”

“You might be surprised, actually. You’ve probably met more. A lot of people don’t talk about it much though. You know, the Vanguard frowns on it. And for those who can’t remember, I know I wouldn’t want to seem like I was rubbing in the fact that I had memories and they didn’t.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Sylvanni says, which is close enough to the truth, she supposes. “I’m just curious. How… did that happen?”

“Well,” Raven begins, leaning in as Uldren puts an arm around her, “it started with headaches. Mostly when I visited the Reef, it got worse. Every now and then, I’d get flashes, almost like a real memory, but gone in an instant. I realized that there were things that were familiar, things that I could feel.”

Sylvanni listens intently, nodding along. “And it… started to come back to you from that?”

Raven laughs. “If only it were that easy! No, no it all just hurt. The more I tried to think about it, figure it out on my own, the worse it felt. But I found someone who could help.” She pauses, taking a sip of her own drink as she decides how to phrase this next part. “Have you ever heard of the Lighthouse?”

Sylvanni stiffens, understanding immediately. Everyone’s  _ heard  _ of the Lighthouse, of course. Every amped-up Crucible junkie who made their way through the Trials well enough to earn an invitation hardly ever shut up about it. The secret base on Mercury where the Cult of Osiris made their home. Everyone knew  _ of  _ it, but only the privileged few were allowed to know where it actually was and how to get in.

Sylvanni tries to hide her reaction, but notices Uldren’s eyes are locked onto her.  _ He knows.  _ No doubt his training has made him very good at reading reactions, especially those people tried to hide. She attempts to play it off anyway.

“Are you saying… Osiris helped you find your memories?” Sylvanni’s rather proud of how casual it sounds, though she can’t quite keep the tinge of disapproval from leaking through.

“He did,” Raven says. She notes Sylvanni’s displeasure, but doesn’t understand the reason behind it. “Really, I don’t know where I’d be if he hadn’t helped me find myself. He’s not like all the wild rumors about him say. He guided me through it all and he was very kind.”

_ The charm is what makes him dangerous, _ Sylvanni thinks, but doesn’t say it. Raven obviously has a high opinion of him. “It’s just… he’s an exile. He was cast out from the Tower for a reason. You should be careful.”

Raven laughs, unconcerned. “Well I don’t think I’m planning on going back anytime soon, and it’s not like I’m bragging about it to the Vanguard. Besides, all that exile stuff happened hundreds of years ago.”

Hundreds of years. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. Sylvanni can still remember that last day, after the Consensus voted. The last time she saw Osiris in person. She’s never sure if she wishes she’d said something more to him in that moment, or if she wishes she’d been strong enough to say nothing at all.

“You don’t care for Osiris? Did you know him?” It’s the first time Uldren’s spoken in a while, and though he phrases it like a question, Sylvanni can see it’s more of a statement. He knows she doesn’t. He wants to know why.

“I’ve heard enough about him to know,” Sylvanni deflects, a statement that is not untrue. “Besides, I trust the will of the Consensus regarding him. One doesn’t exile a standing Vanguard Commander for nothing.”

Uldren meets her eyes, raising an eyebrow. He noticed how she didn’t actually answer his question. Her look back sharpens, a warning. She doesn’t want to be pressed on this, and a truce goes both ways. He gives a little nod, letting it drop. 

“I’m sorry,” Sylvanni says quickly, not wanting to follow up on that line of conversation. “I fear I’ve sent us off-topic. You were telling me how you got your memories back. Was there some kind of meditation?”

Raven gets sheepish at that, a little embarrassed grin coming to her face. “Well, I guess you could call it meditation. Except I was dead for most of it.”

Sylvanni closes her eyes for a moment, holding back a sigh.  _ Of course.  _ “Thanatonautics. A… controversial choice. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Osiris and his followers are said to be anything other than conventional.”

“It doesn’t work for everyone,” Raven says. “But it worked for me. The more I delved, the more things started to open up. I caught glimpses, and then I started getting moments, and then full memories started to return to me. Everything came back. I remembered who I was.” She glances up at Uldren, expression growing fond. “It gave me my life back.”

Sylvanni tries to push down her conflicting feelings, not wanting to be rude, but it’s difficult. Raven’s history is so involved with so many things that she’s been uncomfortable with for years. Osiris and his questionable practices and beliefs, Uldren Sov, the Reef in general. She wants to be polite, but it’s almost too much, all in one night.

She hides behind another drink until she can think of a response. “I’m… glad it worked for you. I don’t think I could do it, myself.”

Raven cocks her head. “Really? You wouldn’t even try it, if you had the chance? Do you have any memory of your past life?”

“None at all,” she says simply. “And I don’t see that there’d be any benefit in it. You… still had things from your old life to return to. I don’t think that’d be the case for me. Why would I try to remember people and places that are surely long gone? That would only lead to heartbreak.

“Why would I try to remember who I once was? Either I find I’m the same as I was before death, in which case nothing changes, or I find a different person, and struggle with conflicting versions of myself. It’s either a null outcome or a bad one. It seems foolish to pursue.”

It’s easy to say all of it at least, to pretend that she’s perfectly content with herself. But she’s felt that curiosity, same as anyone. That little voice in the back of her head that tells her if she could just figure out who she  _ was,  _ she’d be able to understand who she  _ is  _ now.

The voice of duty always won out instead. She has more important things to focus on than herself, and that’s always been the case. And besides, what if she did learn her past, only to discover that knowing it didn’t help? What if she spent all that time pursuing it and came out the other side with more questions and more confusion than she’d started with?

“It’s just… easier to live without it,” Sylvanni finishes, the words falling somewhat flat at the end. That’s what she tells herself, at least, on those times when she feels her attentions wandering.

Raven’s expression falls into something sadder for just a moment. A brief flash of pity. She knows how important discovering her past was for her. She can’t imagine who she would be if she still had no memories, and it’s almost difficult to reconcile someone who doesn’t want to learn about their former self at all.

“Who knows,” Raven says, putting a smile back on, “maybe your past will find you someday. I know mine did.”

Sylvanni offers a polite smile back, but beneath it she feels something warmer starting to rise. “Who knows. Maybe it will.”

Perhaps her Ghost was right. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.


End file.
